


dividing by zero

by euphoriaspill



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Brothers, Drug Dealing, Gangs, Gen, POV First Person, Parental Death, Poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphoriaspill/pseuds/euphoriaspill
Summary: Darry was already having a very, very bad year before his brother got the brilliant idea to drop out of school.





	

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing the curtis bros??? hopefully i didn't make them too horribly angsty

The last thing I expected to see on one of my precious free hours between jobs, while I nursed a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, was Dallas storming through the front door like he owned the place.

"You ever heard of knocking?" I half-heartedly chided as he went down the hallway into Soda and Pony's room, not sparing me a glance. "What're you lookin' for, anyway?"

"Socks and shit, what's it to you?" was the muffled response. "My old man's on a bender again, and I ain't in the mood to fight past him with a pile of boxers in my hands."

"If you need to stay here tonight, the couch is always open," I offered. (Cringing in sympathy, though I knew better than to say anything— Dally was awful touchy like that.)

Then, as I caught sight of the clock, my eyes narrowed. "Hold up. Aren't you supposed to be at school right around one?"

"Not since I dropped out yesterday," he said. "Is my entire t-shirt collection at your place? Jesus Christ."

"You dropped out?" I echoed, letting my spoon slip from my fingers. "The hell would you do a fool thing like that for?"

He stumbled back into the kitchen with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his hair a rat's nest— he looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks, but again, I wasn't about to point that out. "'Cause I'm seventeen, and that shithole was about to expel me anyway?" he snapped, already on the defensive. "Like I was gettin' a lot from chemistry and history when I could've been at the rodeo, or pushin' fence."

Well, that was what I was afraid of— Dallas with unlimited spare time on his hands, and plenty more opportunities than usual to cause trouble. "You promised Mom you'd stay in school," I said, staring straight at him. "D'you really wanna break that promise over nothin'?" Playing that card made me feel slimy, but Mom was the only person he had ever listened to without reservation. If she couldn't convince him to go back, I didn't know what could.

"Your mom's dead," he said flatly— the way I flinched must've bothered even him, because his tone softened a fraction. "I mean, glory, I didn't want to hurt her by droppin' out when she was alive... but now it can't matter to her no more. What _matters_ is me earnin' more dough, and I ain't earnin' it in a classroom unless I start dealin' horse there."

I seriously considered trying to knock some sense into his thick skull for a good five seconds, but then I hesitated at pushing him too far. Mentioning Mom was still like strolling through a field of landmines, around him, and one wrong word could set off an explosion I wasn't prepared to handle just then. "Still, you oughta think it over more than—"

"Save your breath," he cut off. "It ain't none of your business, and my mind was made up by the time I was in the second grade. Once you see Soda, you're gonna need it."

"What's Soda doin'?" I sputtered, all the blood in my body rushing to my face— though I already knew the answer.

"Droppin' out, too," Dallas said with a shrug. "Says he wants to work full-time, and with grades like his, I can't blame him. Boy howdy, you all right? That color ain't healthy."

"Get _back_ here and tell me—" I started to demand, but he was already out the front door before I could finish my sentence. Goddammit.

* * *

 

_Ms. Jones, I know it looks bad on the surface— my underage brother wants to drop out of high school, and apparently thought it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission on this little issue. But listen, it could be worse, couldn't it? He could be on drugs. Or in prison. Or dead._

Well, this speech was off to a wonderful start.

I hated social workers with a fire that licked my insides— they all pitied me, poor little Darry Curtis, fallen so far from grace. Maybe he was class president and captain of the football team and had top grades, maybe he deluded himself into thinking he could get out, but he was still white trash roofing houses for a living and stuck raising kid brothers nobody had wanted him to raise. _You should think about your options, Darrel_ , they said in their faux-concerned voices while I tried not to die of humiliation. _This is an enormous responsibility for someone your age— surely more experienced parents could shoulder it better?_

Man, _screw_ them, and screw my old friends, too— especially Paul, my supposed best friend, who couldn't even be assed to pick up the phone the day of my parents' funeral. I was done playing Soc when my best efforts had all gone to shit. Now I had one responsibility left— making sure Soda and Pony became productive members of society— and I'd be damned if I failed at this acid test.

I was already back at the kitchen table by the time Soda walked through the door, throwing his school bag aside dramatically. "Didn't think you'd be home yet, Darry," he tossed out over his shoulder. "Hey, where's Pony at?"

"I took the rest of the day off, and Pony's at Two-Bit's place," I said carefully, digging my nails into my palms. Or at least he had better have been, because I'd chased him out an hour ago, not wanting him as an audience. "Dallas told me everything, so don't even start makin' excuses. Why don't you sit down, and we can talk 'bout your latest report card?"

He shrugged— if he was surprised by Dallas letting the cat out of the bag, he was doing a great job pretending otherwise. Pulling out a chair, he fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "Here you go."

Scanning it, I could see Dallas hadn't been kidding— the only classes he seemed to have passed were auto mechanics and gym, and the rest made up a nice row of F's. "Lord, did you even go to school for the past three months?" I asked. " _Look_ at this mess."

"I did go," he said, with that movie star grin he used to charm girls— wasn't about to work on me, though. "I been goin' for years and I'm too stupid for it, so that's why I'm droppin' out. I could make a lot more money full-time at the DX; think about how much cash we'd have with those extra hours. It all makes perfect sense."

"You ain't too stupid," I shot back before I could think better of it, "that's just what you keep sayin' to cover for bein' lazy. Easier than admitting you might succeed if you actually put some effort in."

Judging by the way his jaw tightened, I knew I'd struck an awful nerve, and I still couldn't bring myself to feel sorry. "All right, maybe I'm lazy," he said, covering up the hurt with a self-deprecating smirk. "But I ain't fixin' to be lazy _and_ stupid like Two-Bit, stickin' around a school I hate 'til I'm an eighteen-year-old junior. I talked to my manager, and he's over the moon—"

"Trust me, _I'm_ not over the moon," I interrupted. "And last time I checked, I was your legal guardian, buddy. You don't have my permission for this insanity."

"Whether you give me permission or not," he said, dropping the shield of humor and crossing his arms in front of his chest, "is irrelevant. State of Oklahoma lets me drop out at age sixteen and that's all there is to it."

I'd never wanted to smack him more in my life, but I just barely restrained myself. God, the last time I'd seen him look this mule-headed, he'd been arguing up a storm with Dad about how a broken leg should be no reason to quit rodeos. "Well, then," I started, trying to keep my voice calm and steady like Dad's once, "why don't you tell me how I'm supposed to explain to the state of Oklahoma that I let my minor brother leave high school? 'Cause they already think it's a nonstop party over here without this in the mix."

"I dunno, tell me when you figure out how you're gonna explain your third job to the state." He gave me a hard look before I could deny it. "Can't find a newspaper in the house without the classified section cut into shreds."

"Our finances ain't your problem," I said firmly. "I'm the adult, you're the kid— I'll decide what to do. Your job is to focus on your own future." _Even if this ends in me selling my plasma._

"Can you just quit lyin' to me already? I know it's bad, Darry, I ain't Pony's age. Tell me the truth."

"Fine," I conceded with a bitter sigh, "you want to be a man so much? I'll tell you the truth. The state's had it in for us from the start— I'm twenty, lookin' after little brothers who ain't even that much younger than me. If they had their way, you'd be in a boys' home 'til you turned eighteen, and they'd try to find a smart, well-behaved kid like Pony a place with a new mom and dad. You droppin' out of school will make them think I can't control you at all, and no money you can earn working at a gas station is gonna make up for that."

"And if we can't pay the electric?" he countered. "Or the house gets repossessed? Does that look any better?"

I ran a hand through my hair— it didn't calm me much. "You just need to get your act together," I grit through my teeth. "Actually sit down and do your homework, pay attention in class, _try_. How hard is it to at least _pass_?"

"You just don't get it," he burst out, rising from the table. "You an' Mom an' Pony, you're geniuses, okay, I know— but I hate every second locked in there. All the teachers talkin' to me like I'm an idiot, all the stupid rules that don't make no sense, all the algebra and the symbolism and the letters swimmin' around— I'm done. It's useless. Dad never graduated, and he was fine. He said I didn't have to finish if I was still failing by now."

"Well, maybe he shouldn't have said that— maybe he shouldn't have given up on you so easy and let you just blow off your whole future." It left a bad taste in my mouth, talking like this about a dad who'd otherwise been my hero, but I couldn't help but hate him for giving Soda ammo right now. "Remember when you were in second grade and you still couldn't read? Mom spent hours every day goin' through Dick and Jane with you— every single day. This really how you wanna repay her?"

"Mom's _dead_ ," he said, and hearing it for the second time didn't hurt any less. "That's why we're broke, Darry. It don't matter what she wanted anymore."

"Is it drugs?" I suddenly demanded, my scalp prickling. " _Fuck_ , Soda, if you're thinking—"

"What? No!" he protested, looking a little too blindsided. "Why would I— what—"

"That ain't an option. Selling drugs ain't an option. Lifting hubcaps ain't an option. Joining a real gang ain't an option." I leaned as far forward as I could, trying to bore holes in his skull with my eyes. "I don't give two shits how much Dallas wants to destroy himself, you don't get to follow him. If you're in trouble with the law, Ponyboy's out of here faster than you can blink, and I think we've had enough deaths in the family already."

"Well, maybe Dallas offered, but—"

"Dad would kill you if he were here," I declared at that, not caring about the bright color his cheeks turned. "No, scratch that— Dad would kill you, then Mom would dig up your body and kill you all over again. If they knew you were even considering—"

"Dallas offered, but I said _no_ ," he cut off, talking to the neatly stitched flowers on the tablecloth. "You happy now? I said no. Said we weren't that desperate, and we never would be, and that Mom would be ashamed of him."

Well, that sure took some of the wind out of my sails— and I didn't doubt that hearing 'Mom would be ashamed of you' probably knifed Dallas to the quick. They'd been real close, what felt like a long time ago. "You promise it's just... regular work. At the DX. Workin' on cars."

"Most boring work you can think of," he reassured me. "Same kinda stuff Steve and I have been doin' forever, 'cept full time. That's it."

"I just... I ain't sure," I said, pursing my lips, hating how I couldn't stop myself from wavering. "It's only another year, Soda, then you'd be done for good. Ain't like we're completely destitute here."

"You want Pony to graduate, don't you?" he pressed, a calculating look on his face; he'd gotten that from Mom, knowing people so well, manipulating them before they knew they were being manipulated. "Go to college, even?"

"Of course," I answered automatically. I didn't feel half as bad about having to give it up if Pony could go, with all the time the kid spent buried in a book.

"If I don't drop out, he might have to get a job, instead of studyin' or runnin' track. Stuff that could get him a scholarship, let him make something of himself." He sighed. "Darry, it's too damn late for me, okay? School and I just never agreed with each other. But at least Pony can get what he deserves."

"Fine," I exhaled, feeling like the words were coming out of another person's mouth. He'd known exactly the right button to push, I had to hand it to him. "Fine. You want to drop out, then drop out— you're a big boy now, I guess it's your decision. But I swear to God, you're gettin' a GED eventually, even if I have to chain you to a desk."

He smiled. It wasn't too genuine a smile— more out of nervous relief than anything else. "Knew you'd see it my way," he said. "Trust me, we'll be rollin' in the dough soon. I'll put in as much overtime as I can— steal Steve's shifts, even."

I thought about the electric, and the heat, and the water, and the rent. I thought about how my back was already shot at twenty from carrying bundles of roofing, how Dad had said it'd get easier but he'd lied. I thought about how Pony was outgrowing his shoes and half his clothes, how much I wanted him to have more than a neighbourhood with dirty needles on the ground and gunshots every night and people like Dallas and the Brumly crew and Tim Shepard selling dope just to survive. By sacrificing one brother (who was _willingly_ going to the altar), I could save all of us.

I thought about Mom and Dad arguing in their room after they'd thought we'd gone to bed, their voices raised. (They hadn't argued over much, but Soda was always a hot-button issue— I used to consider myself real bad off, my accomplishments overshadowed by 'gotta get Soda a tutor' and 'gotta get Soda motivated' and 'gotta tell those teachers just how smart Soda is', until Steve started crashing on our couch twice a week and Dallas told me just where the cigarette burn scars on his arms had come from. Shut me right up about how crap I had it there.)

Mom saying, he's going to have no future unless he gets his act together.

Dad saying, there's far more important things in a man than how much book learning he's got— courage and character and kindness. Things our Soda has in spades. I ain't worried about him.

"You're making a mistake," I still said.

"Yeah, but it's my mistake to make."

How could I argue with stubbornness that complete?

* * *

 

Dinner was practically silent.

I picked at the spaghetti Soda had dumped a bucket of green food coloring into, cringing at the noise my fork made and feeling like I was about to throw up. What the hell had I been thinking when I signed the papers and arrogantly assumed that I could raise a couple of kids no sweat, when now I couldn't even figure out how to keep my brother in school? Was I going to allow all-night parties and shooting up dope next? But what if we couldn't make rent this month without Soda's extra salary? What about—

"What's wrong?" Ponyboy finally asked. "Darry?"

"Nothin' much," I managed to say with a dry mouth. "Soda dropped out, is all."

"Why would you— Soda, you can't!" Ponyboy yelped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his eyes wide. "I could tutor you or something— Darry, are you gonna just let him?"

"It was my idea," I said, ignoring the shocked look Soda gave me. "We need more money to keep up with all the bills, after Dad's insurance runs out, and Soda wasn't ever gonna graduate anyway. Makes sense for him to work full-time."

"I can't stand the place, the place can't stand me," Soda said as jauntily as ever, elbowing Ponyboy in the ribs. "Trust me, Pone, I ain't too torn up about this."

"But—"

"I'm not fixin' to listen to a tantrum," I cut off, regretting how sharp my tone was when I saw his face fall, but not enough to take it back. God almighty, was I tired— God almighty, did I have no desire to argue points I could barely swallow myself. "If you like school so much, go get your algebra homework, because I want to check it over. There's no reason why you can't make an A this term as long as you quit with the careless mistakes."

"What if I wanna drop out?" Ponyboy muttered at his plate. "What about that?"

"That'll happen when hell freezes over," I reassured him, channeling Dad's saintly patience to keep from erupting, "so don't count on it. Homework. Now."

"You always gotta be so hard on the kid?" Soda asked after he'd slunk away from the table— not _why did you say it?_ or _don't you know how much he's going to resent you for this?_ or _thank you_. "He's doin' his best, you know. We all are."

"Gotta be hard on one of you," I said pointedly— not _you owe me_ or _I can't screw him up too_ or _thank you_. "You'd better be headed to bed soon. You got work tomorrow."


End file.
